


something wicked

by belovedmuerto



Series: blood and moonlight [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Tarot, Vampire!Bucky, Witch!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: Steve's been worrying a lot. It's disturbing Bucky's sleep.





	something wicked

**Author's Note:**

> this is really just a little interlude type thing, so y'all know i'm still working in this 'verse. not beta'd, so it might be a tad rough.

Bucky is aware of when Steve leaves the bed, because he’s almost always aware of when Steve leaves the bed. It’s usually before Bucky at night, as Bucky loves nothing more indulgent than sleeping in, and sometimes in the middle of the day, too—Bucky always burrows deeper under the covers even though there’s very little chance of direct sunlight reaching him here in their sanctuary, their haven of a bedroom—when he’s struck by inspiration for a spell or some bit of art or a new charm.

And sometimes it’s because he’s had a nightmare. Too often it’s because of that if you ask Bucky, and Bucky usually cannot follow him in these instances, because he goes out into the daylight, to let the sun burn away the fear and desperation the nightmares leave behind, the cold of them. All Bucky has when Steve does that are his thoughts, and he gauges how long the nightmare lingers by how long Steve’s thoughts take to even out, to go from jumbled and worried, anxious and terrified, back to calm and more or less ordered.

All Bucky can do when Steve is outside in the sunlight is try to feel at him as strongly as he can, send him reassurance and love and all the comfort he can muster, curled up in their bed and wishing for Steve to come back so he can comfort him physically.

Sometimes Steve comes back, warm from the sun, and burrows into him, and lets himself be comforted. More often, he doesn’t come back until later, when he’s already gathered himself back together and has calmed down from the dreams. When the stream of his thoughts through Bucky’s head has resumed its flow, gentle in the grooves of Bucky’s mind.

Steve’s thoughts are how Bucky gauges many things. They’re how he measures his days, how he makes choices, how he orders his own life, all according to the river of Steve’s thoughts through his head.

He’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t know that.

He’s not sure how to tell him, even still, after they’ve learned how to talk to each other. How to communicate.

\---

So he’s aware when Steve gets out of bed and leaves the room, even if he’s not fully awake. He’s aware enough to know that it wasn’t a nightmare this time, or at least not precisely a nightmare.

Steve thinks ‘It’s ok, I’ll be back soon’ at him, and it’s enough of a reassurance that Bucky turns over and drifts back into sleep after a few minutes.

When he wakes up again, the bed is empty next to him, and cool enough that he knows Steve hasn’t been back. He’s close, but not here, which means he’s not close enough. He’s never close enough for Bucky’s liking.

Grumbling all the while, he drags himself into a sitting position and checks the time on his phone. Grumbling some more, he drags the comforter off the bed and wraps it securely around himself, leaving really just enough space that he can more or less see where he’s going. Or at least, enough not to run into anything or accidentally leave the apartment.

Not that he’s actually afraid of that but. Sunlight. 

(He misses the sun, sometimes.)

Bucky shuffles through the house, still grumbling. His sleep has been well and truly disturbed, and Steve should be in bed with him, where he belongs, and he doesn’t like it. 

Steve’s thoughts have that sort of carefully tamped down feeling they get sometimes, where he’s thinking incredibly hard about something, but trying not to let it bleed over to Bucky, as much as he can, anyway.

Bucky hates when Steve does that.

It doesn’t take him long to find Steve. 

It’s not actually a very big apartment, for all that it feels spacious to Bucky. But then, sometimes he also remembers the place he’d grown up in, and some of the places he’d been… kept. Before he’d broken free of Zola’s mind-control.

So it doesn’t take him very long to find Steve. He’s in the kitchen, standing over a steaming cup of tea, staring at nothing as far as Bucky can tell. Bucky goes right up to him and unwraps himself just enough to wrap his arms and the comforter around Steve. He hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder.

“You didn’t come back to bed,” he says, soft in Steve’s ear.

It takes several minutes for Steve to come back to wherever he’s gone to in his head, but Bucky waits patiently, holding on to him. Steve feels warm against him, and it’s a comfort, just standing there waiting. He can tell when Steve is aware again, because he relaxes back against Bucky, lifting his hands to wrap around Bucky’s wrists, leaning into him.

“I’m coming back to bed, you didn’t have to get up, Buck,” he murmurs.

“Steve, you’ve been gone for an hour and a half.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Where were you?”

Steve shrugs a little. “I was just thinking.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He shrugs again. “Maybe later?”

“Okay. You gonna drink the tea or just come back to bed?”

Steve abandons his tea (which Bucky expects he was keeping warm by magic since it’s been an hour and a half since he made it) and shuffles back to bed with Bucky wrapped around him the whole way.

Once safely back in their bedroom with the door shut against any errant light, Bucky unwraps himself and throws the comforter back on the bed. Steve sits down on his side. He’s already lost in his thoughts again, his moves slow and more or less unconscious.

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes, goes around to his side of the bed and climbs in, snuggling down into the bed and sighing again, this time more softly, full of relief.

“Steve,” he murmurs. 

Steve doesn’t respond.

He says it again, soft, aloud and in Steve’s head.

Steve turns to him, blinks, and lays down, turning towards Bucky and snuggling close as Bucky throws the blankets over him, still clearly more in his head than anything else.

Bucky doesn’t push. He drapes his arm over Steve, across his waist, holding him close but not tight, and mumbles, “Get some more sleep, Stevie.”

Steve makes an affirmative noise and goes quiet.

\----

When he wakes up again, he can feel immediately that it’s after dark, and as always it is a relief. Darkness is safety in a really vital way.

Steve is sitting in bed next to him. He’s not quite mumbling to himself, but Bucky can tell that something is on his mind, something he’s really giving a lot of thought, a lot of worry.

He makes a noise, something along the lines of mrmphf, and Steve looks over and smiles down at him.

Bucky rolls towards him, pressing his face into Steve’s hip, inhaling the scent and comfort of him, and drapes his arm across Steve’s lap. 

“Ready to talk about it yet?” he asks.

He can feel Steve shrug, and slump back against the headboard. Bucky lifts his head and looks up at Steve, and Steve smiles at him, a soft, fond smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which are worried.

Bucky sits up and slides his arms around Steve, pressing close. “You don’t have to.”

Steve shakes his head and leans into Bucky. “No, it’s not that, I want to. It’s probably nothing? I don’t know.”

Steve picks up the cards that are sitting in front of him on the bed, and Bucky recognizes them as his tarot deck. He’d created it himself, done all the art and everything. It’s an important thing to him.

“I’ve been doing a lot of readings,” Steve starts. He doesn’t keep going. 

“Huh,” Bucky says, after a few minutes.

Steve shoves the cards at Bucky, unexpected. He never lets anyone else touch his deck. “Here, shuffle. It’ll be easier to show you.”

Bucky is curious, and a little apprehensive (can a tarot deck form an instant grudge on someone?), but he does as Steve has requested, shuffling the cards several times, and then handing them back to Steve. Steve takes them and lays out three cards in quick succession. After he’s done so, he sighs.

The cards he’s laid out are the Lovers, the Tower, and Death.

“These two,” Steve says, pointing at the Lovers and Tower cards, “every single reading I’ve done in the past few days. Every single one, Buck. They always show up. It doesn’t matter what I’m asking, or what my intent is, or how many cards I pull, they always show up.”

“What about the other one?” Bucky asks, stroking his hand up and down Steve’s back, trying to be soothing. He’s not sure he manages, because Steve is stiff in his arms, and he’s honestly a little freaked out by how worried Steve is.

“It varies, but Death shows up more often than the other ones that show up. There’s no real pattern.”

“What does it mean?” 

Steve takes a deep, shaky breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t--” He shrugs.

“Walk me through it,” Bucky says, hugging Steve tight. He doesn’t like this at all; it’s got Steve really worried.

Steve points at the first card, the Lovers. “I’m pretty sure this is us.”

It seems pretty straightforward so far.

He moves on to the Tower. “This is the one that worries me. The Tower is not really… good.”

“And Death?” Bucky asks. “Is that me?”

Steve smiles a little, leans a bit more into Bucky. “No, Death isn’t really a bad card. Usually it just means a change, or a big decision. Something like that.”

“So what do they all mean together?”

Steve takes another breath. “I think they mean that something is coming. For us.”

**Author's Note:**

> belovedmuerto.tumblr.com


End file.
